


Sins of the Father

by daoinhe



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Eugenics, F/M, Incest, Misogyny, Nazis, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoinhe/pseuds/daoinhe
Summary: ...visiting the sins of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation...
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a work of fiction. It in no way reflects on my personal political views nor is it meant to be anything other than entertainment. That being said, if you are easily triggered, please stop here. This story contains sensitive topics, including, rape, incest, mysogeny, Nazis, and eugenics. I have attempted to tag this story with everything that I thought was appropriate, but if i have missed any tags, please feel free to contact me and let me know. This story does not contain blatant pornographic scenes, yet I have chosen to tag it as Mature due to the content matter. Once again, I cannot stress enough that this story contains sensitive topics. If you choose to read it, please enjoy.

Aksel Rasch adjusted his uniform jacket, brushing a minute bit of lint from one black wool sleeve and checked his reflection in the mirror in his private bath. He looked good. Tall and dark haired, his eyes were a bright glacial blue, a small sardonic crook turning up the corner of his mouth. “Handsome devil.” He winked at his reflection and turned away. The walk through the sterile white corridors of his laboratory were broken only by the loud click of his boot heels on the tile. He stopped one of his assistants, a graceful, long fingered hand on the arm that commanded attention. “See to the experiments today, Hans. They must be fed and watered, and I would like for notes to be taken detailing their reactions to the new formula. I shall review them when I return from the town.” He watched as the smaller man nodded, eyes going over the dress uniform his superior wore now, instead of the more familiar white lab coat. 

“How long will you be gone, Sir?” 

“Hopefully only half the day. I feel that we are close to a breakthrough. This order couldn’t have come at a worse time.” He shrugged and chuckled softly. “But we all do our part, right?” His grin faded as he continued down the hallway. He was really too busy for this nonsense. He stepped out into the chill morning air, pulling his black leather gloves onto his hands and pasting a bright smile on his face. At any other time, he would have enjoyed this honor thoroughly. Now, however, a large part of him itched to be back in his laboratory, accompanied by the clink of bottles and the hiss of bunsen burners. His driver was waiting at the car, his back straight, gloved hand on the door handle. Aksel nodded slightly as he approached the car. 

“Good morning, Herr Rasch.” The driver’s face was solemn, his dark eyes focused on the ground. As he drew closer, the driver opened the door for Aksel. “Thank you, Mein Freund.” He ducked into the back seat and settled back against the leather, breathing in the heady aroma, reveling in the warmth. Turning his head, he stared out the window, ignoring the driver as he slid behind the wheel, ignoring the snow covered countryside. His thumb tapped against the manila file laid on his knee as he contemplated reading it. Soon, he was ignoring the streets that passed by as the car moved through them, a large black shark sliding through the ocean. Aksel shook his head, marvelling at his own imagination. 

Finally he flipped open the file, staring down at the photo attached to the front sheet. A blonde woman stared back at him, a smile lighting up her face. Her eyes were serious though, staring into the camera with a level gaze that bespoke a lack of the frivolity he normally associated with young women her age. He snorted softly to himself. She could not be much younger than he was, and yet he felt ancient. He turned the page and began to read.

The woman’s name was Margit, Margit Dahl. She’d been a university student before the war started, studying engineering. She was intelligent, for a woman, then. He frowned, skimming the papers. She’d given birth twice already, since being taken into the Lebensborn program, both children were female. The father of one child was a mechanical engineer, the other was a chemical engineer. And now him, a doctor and scientist. The Fuhrer must have high hopes for these children. 

When the car finally drew to a halt, he took a moment to straighten the twin lightning bolts on his shoulders, then he got out, looking around. This street was bleak, wood faced buildings showing the lack of wealth in this town, the weathering from the harsh winters and proximity to the sea. They could all use a coat of paint and some landscaping. Perhaps after the war was won, Aksel sighed, his nose crinkling at the smells, fish and the ocean. He’d never liked the smell of the ocean, it had always struck him as dirty, stale. He grunted and slid out of the back seat, looking up at the building before him. He longed to be back at his laboratory, outside of this town with it’s glut of humanity. Only there, within it’s sterile confines, was he truly comfortable. But, he thought, he had a duty to perform. Best to get it over with quickly so he could return to his experiments. He opened the wooden door, scraping the mud from his boots onto the mat. 

Aksel opened the door to the room he’d been directed to. Third on the right, up three flights of stairs. He wondered idly what was behind the other doors, the ones that remained closed. He’d heard muffled sobbing as he walked down the hallway, the stale odors of fish and cabbage permeating the air. He assumed the entire building was dedicated to the program, to breeding new warriors for the German war machine. With a shrug, he stepped inside the door, putting his curiosity aside. It did not affect him. Therefore, the less he knew, the better. He did not want to show curiosity and be reassigned from his own work. Immortality was so much more interesting than genetics in his opinion. 

The rooms he entered were warm, fully furnished. A small living room suite, a fire burning on the hearth and a rocking chair overlooking the bare, snow covered courtyard outside. It would be perfect for nursing a child, he decided. A bathroom lay partly revealed through a half open doorway, plain white furnishings starkly practical. He looked to the closed bedroom door, then squared his shoulders. He would do this for the Fatherland. And if it did not take the first time, he would do this, three times a week, until his seed sprouted in the girl’s, Margit’s, belly. He began to wish that he hadn’t read her dossier. It would be much easier if he didn’t have a name. Then he could pretend this was some nameless woman that he’d paid to receive him. He didn’t know why, but the thought of a child made him uncomfortable. Shaking off the niggling worries, he turned the doorknob. 

The girl was stretched out on the bed, on top of the bright handsewn quilt. Her blonde hair was spread about her head like a halo, her arms tied above her to the headboard. She watched him warily, cornflower blue eyes wide. She was tall, with an athletic build, long lean legs and a narrow waist framing softly curving hips. The small pouch of her belly was the only indication that she’d given birth before, and that was barely noticeable. She appeared to be well nourished, her skin and hair having no traces of the pallor that affected most of the native population in this town. 

Aksel stepped closer to the bed, watching her face. It was set in lines of hopelessness, knowing what was to come next. He trailed his hand over her bare thigh, noting the softness of her skin, the warmth and elasticity that spoke well of her treatment. He smiled slightly as she trembled, fighting the urge to draw away from him. Reaching up, he pulled his glasses off and set them on the bedside table, his hands going to his thick jacket and sliding it off. “Hello, Margit.” He reached for the buttons on his plain white dress shirt, beginning to undo them, one by one. He could feel the hot press of lust stirring in his belly. The ropes and the girl's fear were affecting him. Aksel smiled benignly at her. “Shall we begin?”


	2. Do You Want To Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lips of an immoral woman are as sweet as honey,  
> and her mouth is smoother than oil.  
> But in the end she is as bitter as poison,  
> as dangerous as a double-edged sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you are enjoying this little tale, I promise the action will start soon. With that in mind, please read and heed this warning. This story is a work of fiction. It in no way reflects on my personal political views nor is it meant to be anything other than entertainment. That being said, if you are easily triggered, please stop here. This story contains sensitive topics, including, rape, incest, misogyny, Nazis, and eugenics. I have attempted to tag this story with everything that I thought was appropriate, but if i have missed any tags, please feel free to contact me and let me know. This story does not contain blatant pornographic scenes, yet I have chosen to tag it as Mature due to the content matter. Once again, I cannot stress enough that this story contains sensitive topics. If you choose to read it, please enjoy.

Runa Dahl stood in front of the smudged bathroom mirror in the rundown hotel room and stared hard at her reflection. She was not ugly, far from it in fact, judging by the admiring looks she got when she walked down the street. Dark hair framed a pale, strong jawed face, high cheekbones accenting the shape. Even with her hair braided, little wisps crept out and softened her features. Her mouth was a bit on the thin side, but her lips were well defined and kissable. Her eyes were such a bright blue that people often asked if she wore contacts. Like a glacial lake, she’d been told. Porcelain was an apt word for her skin tone, winter pale and unblemished even in her teen years when so many of her friends had suffered. Good genetics, she would tell the other girls, smiling a secret little smile at the irony. Thankfully, she worked nights so there was no tan to worry about. 

Runa stepped back, viewing the rest of her body critically then undulated her hips seductively, puckering her lips and blowing her mirror image a kiss. She had taken the job in the small bar for a reason, wanting to meet the mercenaries who lived in the fort outside of town. Working as a dancer had seemed much easier than infiltrating the base. Not to mention it paid better. 

She checked her makeup, then ran an appraising eye over her clothes. Dark, curve hugging jeans, a tank top that showed off her large breasts to maximum advantage, paired with her motorcycle boots. She looked good, she decided. Hair and makeup were on point and she had a good feeling about today. She sighed, crossing her fingers, then grinned at the childishness of the act. 

She was steadily losing patience with her job at the bar, waiting around town and dancing for drunk idiots when she should be completing the task her grandma had given her. Getting groped by drunken townies every night wasn’t her idea of fun but she would stick by her plan, for a little while longer at least. She shook her head, wondering if she should firebomb the bar before leaving this one horse shithole behind. She smiled at the satisfaction she’d get listening to the screams, then pushed the idea out of her mind. She liked the girls she worked with, and, unlike her, they needed the income. 

Runa stepped out of the bathroom and into her simply furnished hotel room. She grinned sardonically at the picture sitting on her bedside table. It was an old photo, sepia toned and faded, of a dark haired man in a German uniform. She raised her fingers to her lips and blew the man a kiss. “Not much longer, Grandpa, and I’ll be coming for you.” She chuckled, her hand fisting at her side. “Can’t wait to meet you, old man.” Her face became hard, eyes cold and angry. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” Picking up her black leather jacket, she swung it over her shoulder and walked outside into the evening air. 

***

The cooler air of Joe’s Bar struck her with welcome relief. She would never get used to the desert although, hopefully, if things went well tonight, she wouldn’t have to endure it for much longer. She carried her jacket back to her dressing room and hung it on a hook, ready for the chilly walk home that evening. Stripping, she got into her costume, a pair of shorts that allowed her rounded ass cheeks to hang out and a sequined bikini top patterned after the American flag. The people around Teufort didn’t really have exotic tastes, she’d decided shortly after coming here. She grunted in disdain and leaned closer to the mirror she was currently sharing with two other girls. 

Smoky eyes and bright red lips materialized under her skilled hand, her stage makeup so much more prominent than her street look. She quickly braided her waist length hair into two plaits, letting them swing across her back. She bared her teeth, checking for food particles and nodded to herself, satisfied. Sitting on a bench, she strapped the four inch platform heels in red white and blue onto her feet. She was ready for work. With a sigh, she stepped past the curtain and onto the stage. 

The night passed quickly, customers coming and going frequently, some tucking money into her shorts, others just watching from the back of the room. It was close to ten o’clock when the door opened and two guys she’d never seen before entered. She smiled in welcome, her hips grinding to the music. She’d been having a good night so far, and had well over two hundred dollars tucked away in her jacket pocket. 

“Who are they?” She leaned over and whispered to the girl dancing beside her. 

“They’re from that weird base up the road.” The girl shrugged, then turned and danced closer to Runa. She twined up against her, her arms wrapping around Runa’s shoulders. She was shorter than Runa, eyes level with Runa’s chin. She ground her pelvis on Runa’s outstretched leg, Runa responding by running her hands over the other girl’s sweat dewed body. She leaned in close, tucking her head near Runa’s neck. “Be careful with them. One of the girls went out with them one time and never came back.” She shrugged. “Not those two, but the tall one with the sexy accent. Those two mostly just come in to drink.” She backed off, grinning at the applause from the audience of half drunk men. 

Runa nodded. “Noted.” She smiled, hands sliding from her waist to her breasts, cupping them. Looking at the two men, one black and one white, she winked. The black man, eye patch covering his one eye, nudged the other, leaning in and saying something. Runa completed her set, then hopped off the small stage, going to mingle with the crowd. 

She threaded her way through the drunken patrons, ignoring the hands sliding over her, the looks and money waved her way. Sliding onto a stool beside the two, she pasted on her most winning smile. “So, I don’t think I’ve seen you guys in here before.” 

“I’m Tavish.” The black man turned and smiled at her, then waved a hand at the other. “This is Jane.” He leaned back a bit and eyed her up and down, a rakish grin on his face. “You’re new, aren’t you?” 

She nodded, enjoying the thick Scottish accent, so different from the flat accents that surrounded her. “I’ve been here about three weeks. It’s a nice job, but you get tired of seeing the same people every night.” She turned up the wattage on her smile. “You’re gonna relieve my boredom tonight, aren’t you?”

Tavish nodded just as his friend Jane, a straight backed, crew cut military type, leaned around him and stared at her top. “Very nice flags you have there, cupcake.” His eyes had yet to meet her face and Runa silently bit back the urge to tell him “Eyes up.” 

“Thanks, Jane. Would you like to inspect them closer?” She leaned around Tavish, one breast brushing against his arm. “I’d love to have a real soldier give me his opinion.” Jane pulled back a bit and she thought for a moment that she’d misjudged the situation, come on too strong perhaps. Then he smiled at her, blue eyes cold. “How much would this inspection cost, Missy?” Runa nearly choked on her drink. This one didn’t beat around the bush. “Twenty for a lap dance, no hands, if you touch, it's twenty more.” She laid out the prices easily, mind going to the private room above the bar. “If you want to inspect them in private, seventy five and ten minutes for me to get the room ready.” She winked at him. “If you want to party all night, you have to wait for me to get off work.” 

The two leaned close and whispered conspiratorially to each other. Finally Tavish turned back to her. “We’re here to drink tonight. But, we have a friend, his birthday is tomorrow. How would you feel about a lap dance tonight, and then we book you all night tomorrow night?” He grinned, his voice dropping to a seductive growl. “There’ll be all the beer you can drink, and only nine of us to dance for.” He leaned in close. “Do ye feel up for a challenge, lass?” 

Runa grinned. This was exactly the in she’d been looking for. “I’m off tomorrow night. My room is too small for nine guys, so we’d have to do this at your place?” She put a question in her voice. ‘Five hundred, and I’m yours.” She leaned back in her seat, fingers idly toying with the end of her braid,- waiting. He nodded once and she hid the urge to jump up and down with excitement. This was entirely too easy. 

“Agreed, lass. I’ll give you the directions after the lap dance you’re about to give Jane.” He grinned, then looked at the other man. “Medic’s gonna love this one.” 

Runa slid off her barstool and walked over to Jane, putting a bit of extra sway in her hips. Leaning in to him, she braced her hands on his knees and bent over, giving him a good view of the cleavage he seemed so attracted too. Straightening slowly, she began to dance. She was graceful, sinuous and sexy as the music pounded in the background. She was enjoying herself, watching his pupils dilate, his breathing quicken, the way he shifted on his barstool. At last, the song coming to an end, she leaned down and kissed his forehead, right between his heavy brows and the start of his light brown crewcut. “Did you like that, Jane?” She kept her voice low, husky and seductive. “Was it good for you?” 

He was speechless for a moment, grinning so broadly that all of his teeth showed white in the bar’s dim light. “You are good, cupcake, very good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Runa leaned closer, letting him carefully place the crisp bills into her skimpy top. She turned back to Tavish. “And you? Satisfied that you’ll get your money’s worth?” Her grin broadened when he nodded. She leaned over his lap and took a pen and napkin from the bar, feeling the light caress of his hand across her bottom. Standing back up, she handed him the napkin. “Directions? Also, anything in particular you want for your friend?” 

Tavish took a deep breath and reached for the pen she’d handed him. “He’s older. He has some odd tastes.” He glanced up at her. “Nothing too out of the ordinary, but do you have anything in leather?” His white teeth shone as he talked, distracting Runa. She had to remember that these men were dangerous. “Definitely leather, the tighter the better.” 

Runa nodded. “I think I can take care of you.” She glanced down at the napkin he’d just pressed back into her hand. “It’s nearly time for my next set. You’ll both stay and watch, right?” She folded the paper carefully and placed it into her pocket. “I can be there tomorrow around eight? Would that be fine?” She smiled at his nod, then patted his cheek. “Great! I’ll see you then.” Runa started to walk away, but he grabbed her hand suddenly, his grip gentle although she could feel the strength in his fingers. 

“One more question, lass. Do ye pole dance?” 

She nodded, nearly laughing at the way his eyes lit up. “Do you have a pole I can dance on?” she asked with a wink.

Tavish blushed, his cheeks darkening a bit. “Oh lass, that I do.” He let her go then, and she sashayed through the crowd. 

In the small dressing room, she did a short victory dance and nearly cheered. This was so damned much better than she’d ever expected. An open invitation, instead of having to weasel it out of one of them. She took a sip of water, refreshed her makeup, stowed the directions in her jacket pocket and hurried on stage.


	3. Let's Get This Party Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eye that mocks a father and scorns to obey a mother will be picked out by the ravens of the valley and eaten by the vultures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a work of fiction. It in no way reflects on my personal political views nor is it meant to be anything other than entertainment. That being said, if you are easily triggered, please stop here. This story contains sensitive topics, including, rape, incest, misogyny, Nazis, and eugenics. I have attempted to tag this story with everything that I thought was appropriate, but if i have missed any tags, please feel free to contact me and let me know. This story does not contain blatant pornographic scenes, yet I have chosen to tag it as Mature due to the content matter. Once again, I cannot stress enough that this story contains sensitive topics. If you choose to read it, please enjoy.

Runa moaned and rolled over, pushing her dark mass of hair off her face. She’d slept later than usual, her sleep having been broken by odd dreams of uniformed men, barked orders in a foreign language, and jackboots marching. She groaned and sat up, one hand going to her head, pressing against her temple. She’d known better than to indulge in shots when she made it back to her room, but the occasion called for celebration. Grunting in disgust at the taste in her mouth, she stared blearily at her clock. If she was going to be on time, she would have to hurry. 

Rolling out of bed, she started the coffee brewing in the small courtesy pot in her room, then hopped in the shower. After she was out, towel wrapped and coffee in hand, she sat on the bed and looked around the room that had been home for the past month. She would not miss it when she left. Her suitcase was packed, done last night in between celebratory shots, and her outfit for the day lay across the worn chair that sat in the corner. 

She sipped quietly, then stood and crossed to her clothes. The leather pants were worn to a smooth softness without losing their inky sheen, and, when paired with her leather bustier, would definitely turn heads. She grinned. Apparently, according to Tavish, Grandpa liked dangerous looking women. He was gonna love her, she decided, double checking her back holster and sheaths. The knives were easily concealed in her boots, thigh high leather laced up the fronts, and the Glock in it’s slim holster would only cause a small bulge at the small of her back, hopefully covered by her jacket until it was too late. Given the caliber of men she was dealing with, she was counting on the gun being discovered. Hopefully it would distract them from anything else she might get up to. 

She got a danish out of the small fridge and chewed thoughtfully, wondering if there was something she was missing. She’d searched for Aksel Rasch for most of her life, and now the moment of truth was at hand. She could not mess this up. There would be no second chance. Reaching into the side pocket of her battered suitcase, she pulled out the photo of her grandma, Margit. She ran a finger lightly over the creased and battered photo, smiling. 

When her mother had died in childbirth, Margit had taken her in, raised her as her own. She owed everything to this woman. She’d heard tales her entire life of the monster who was her grandfather, a sorcerer who dabbled in immortality without caring who he harmed. Grandma Margit had made certain that she was able to defend herself, teaching her to handle a firearm, to fight with knives, to beat a man senseless with whatever was at hand, including her bare fists. Grandma Margit had also taught her to think, to plan, to strategize, and now, after years of waiting, it was all going to pay off. 

Glancing at the clock, she lay the photo aside and began to dress. A black G string was first, followed by the soft leather pants. Her stockinged feet slid easily into her boots, she then laced them and positioned her knives in the custom sheaths built into them. She stood, flexed and squatted, making sure that they were in easy reach. The bustier was next, she was thankful for the custom fit and the small grommets that ran up the front, making back lacing unnecessary. She positioned her gun in the holster,then checked the bathroom mirror. From the front, she looked good, nothing visible. From the back or side, a sharp eye would notice the small bulge. She quickly french braided her hair, wrapping the long hanging tail into a knot at the nape of her neck, making it harder to grab. She slowly turned side to side, checking herself out. Makeup was applied with a deft hand, enhancing her eyes, while lips painted dark red and minimal other makeup left her looking doll-like and fragile. She smiled broadly, baring her teeth, then blew her image a kiss.

Tucking the photo of Grandma Margit into her bustier, she picked up the handles to her suitcases and walked out the door, closing it behind her for the last time. She stowed her suitcases in the trunk of her nondescript sedan. She dropped the keys at the office, giving the old guy behind the desk a wink and a smile when he asked if she was coming back. Getting behind the wheel, she started the car, cranked up the radio, and pulled onto the dusty two lane road. 

*** 

The destination she’d been given made her wonder if this was some sort of joke. Instead of the large building that she expected, she had been directed to a dusty pull off on the side of the road. She pulled into it, put her car in park, and checked her watch. She had ten minutes to wait. Leaning her seat back, she rolled down the window and yawned. She was still feeling the lingering after effects of last night, as well as a nervous hitch in her stomach, brought on by the need to leave so much unplanned. She worried about messing up also, not being able to take the shot, or missing, or… She quickly stopped that line of thought before she simply restarted the car and drove away. She owed her Grandmother justice. 

About five minutes into her wait, a vehicle pulled in beside hers. She popped her head up and looked around. The beat up delivery truck parked beside her car looked like something a serial killer would drive. She lay her hand on her boot, near one of the hidden knives, ready to fight if need be. That would be the most unlucky serial killer ever, she thought, if he were after her. The side door slid open with a rattling bang, dust flying from the track, and she peered through the red tinged cloud, body tense. When Jane’s head popped out, she relaxed with a grin. Of course they drove a serial killer wagon, because, why not?

He leaned on her car, peering in the window at her. A large M1 helmet perched on his head, the strap dangling and his shaded eyes twinkled. “Hello, cupcake. You ready for a party?” He was checking out her chest again. Runa fought the urge to cover herself with her hands, and forced a smile in return. 

“Hello, Jane. Why are we in a parking lot?” 

“We have to sneak you on base, Private.” He winked. “There’s no way that our boss would just agree to this. So we decided to smuggle you in the back of the truck.” 

She glanced at said truck to see Tavish walking around the front. He grinned that easy grin and raised a hand in greeting. “Ay, lass. Are you ready for some fun?” His teeth gleamed red in the setting sun and Runa suppressed a shiver, all of her senses on high alert now. 

Putting her hand on the door handle, she waited for Jane to back off before she got out of the car. “Sure.” Tavish let out a low whistle when he saw her outfit. She giggled at his admiring look. “You said leather, Tavish. I do own plenty of leather.” She pirouetted, giving him a chance to view the clothing from all angles. “I just need to get my bag from the trunk, then we’re ready to go.” 

Jane followed her to the back of her car, watching warily as she opened the trunk and pulled out her duffle bag. She’d packed it earlier, a few extra outfits stuffed inside, along with makeup and other important odds and ends. Hefting the heavy bag, she walked to the truck, focusing on hiding her nervousness. “My car will be okay here, right?” 

Both men nodded, Tavish speaking. “It’ll be fine, lass. Everybody for miles around knows not to mess with this pull off spot. We can see it from the base.” He chuckled. “We’ve stopped a goodly mess of trouble simply by keeping an eye on this spot.” 

Runa looked around, unable to figure out where the base was. She tensed slightly when Tavish stepped close behind her, the heat of his body warm against her back, and wrapping long fingers around her head, gently pointed it up. “You see that telephone pole?” His voice was a soft burr in her ears. “That bird’s nest on the crossbeam? It’s a camera.” His lips trailed over her shoulder and he patted her ass. “Now, get in the truck, lass, and lets get started.” 

Runa climbed in the back, prepared to fight off roving hands all the way to the base. She looked around, the back was far from clean, littered with food wrappers and empty soda cans. She frowned, toeing a soda can aside. It clinked softly against the others then stilled. Sitting primly on the bench seat that encircled the truck bed, she crossed her hands in her lap, waiting. Tavish, swinging himself easily into the truck behind her, surprised her when he took the seat across from her. He smiled easily and leaned back, watching her with his one eye. 

“So, would ye like to tell me about the gun strapped to your back?” He chuckled at her frown, waving his hands in an attempt to make himself look harmless. “Don’t worry, lass, I will no take your toy from ye. And I can understand wanting to feel safer with going into a strange place with strange men. I was just curious.”

Runa relaxed a bit when he made no move toward her. “It’s a Glock.” She shrugged. “I always carry it when I’m going to a private party.”

He nodded understandingly. “If ye ever want to practice shooting, I’d love to take ye to the range. It’s not far from the base, and a little practice goes a long way.” 

Runa smiled and nodded, the look on her face implying that she would probably not do so. 

“So, where are ye from?” He settled back against the truck's high metal wall. “How did you end up here?” His eyes were serious, belying the easy smile. 

Runa thought fast, knowing the truth would only get her a shallow grave. “I’m from here and there, mostly the East Coast. I was curious about the desert.” She smiled. “The nice thing about dancing for a living is, you can do it anywhere. What about you?”

The big guy smiled at her. “If ye couldn’t tell from the accent, I’m from Scotland. I needed a decent job, and ended up here.” He leaned against the wall of the truck, at ease despite the bumpy terrain they were crossing. “It’s not a bad job. Pays well and I get to blow things up.” He chuckled as the truck slowed. “We’re home. Let me and Jane lead, ok?” He smiled conspiratorially. “We thought that maybe we’d hide you in the Doc’s lab, get him to go in there and you could surprise him?” 

He stepped out of the truck, offering her a hand, which she accepted. “So, you want me to hide in a lab, surprise a mercenary, and not get killed in the process?” She put a note of doubt in her voice, making herself sound uncertain and afraid. “This is gonna go south pretty quickly.” 

Tavish shook his head and started walking, Jane quickly coming up on her other side. “It’ll be fine. He’s not gonna hurt ye.” 

Jane grinned cheekily under his helmet. “It’s pretty obvious that you are female and don’t belong on this base.” Runa nodded, inwardly looking forward to being left alone in a lab with him. It would suit her purposes just fine, she decided, and by the time these men were aware of her motivations, she would hopefully be long gone. 

Walking between the two, she was led down concrete hallways that would have seemed impersonal if not for the occasional poster or sprawled graffiti on the walls. She tried her best to note their path, taking in the signs of fighting that were everywhere. Bullet holes scarred the walls, scorch marks took up wide swathes of space, but there was no sign of bloodstains or other carnage. Someone was at least attempting to clean up, apparently. 

They finally stopped in front of a set of wide swinging double doors. made of white painted wood, painted white, they looked like a left over from a 1950’s movie set. She pushed through them, looking around at the lab. The walls and floor were pristine, white tile covering everything. A drain in the middle of the floor aroused her curiosity, but she didn’t ask. There were several gurneys pressed up against a wall, locked cabinets that she assumed contained drugs and other supplies, and in the center of it all was a large device that caused her breath to catch in her throat. 

She didn’t have a clue what it was. It was mounted on arms that extended from the ceiling, allowing it to be moved here and there. It was long and cylindrical, resembling a science fiction gun more than anything else. Jane caught the direction of her smile and nudged her. “Don’t mess with it. Or anything else in here. You don’t wanna piss off the Doc.” 

Taking her hand, he led her to a changing screen in the corner. “You hide back here. Do you need to change clothes or anything?” When she shook her head, he glanced over at Tavish. “We’ll give you, say, ten minutes to get ready, then we’ll send in the Doc.” Tavish nodded agreement and frowned. 

“I know I was nae gonna take your gun, but I cannae leave ye with it here, lass. You understand, right?” He reached out his hand and, reluctantly, Runa reached to the small of her back and unholstered it, laying it in his calloused palm. 

“I’d like to have that back when I leave. Guns are expensive.” She watched his hand close easily around her pistol, automatically checking the safety. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it back. I promise.” Runa seriously doubted that, but said nothing.

*** 

Left to her own devices, she quickly stepped behind the changing screen and crouching down, rummaged under the clothing and makeup she’d packed, pulling out another pistol. She checked the magazine and slid back the chamber, then sat on the rolling stood to wait. She hadn’t seen any cameras in the room, but was certain there had to be some. The halls had them every 100 feet. It would be too much to hope that she was not watched now. 

The wait felt interminable. During the time, she considered her situation, on the verge of backing out, but then bolstered her courage. This was the task her grandmother had set for her, and she would never have a better opportunity. She missed the older woman dearly, since her death three years ago, Runa had devoted her life to this search. With a sigh, she brushed the wisps of hair from her face. A few more moments and it would all be over. She could go on, live her life, knowing that her grandfather was dead, his crimes punished. Straightening her back, she mentally prepared herself to pull the trigger on him.

When the sound of heavy boots clicked down the hall, Runa was prepared. She stood, pushing the rolling stool out of the way. She listened to the sound of the heavy doors swinging open, then a man’s voice, “Scout, where are you? I don’t have time for this verdammt nonsense.” 

The booted feet stepped further into the room. Runa peered through a small gap in the screen, sucking in a breath. He looked just like her. Dark hair, thin lips, a strong jaw and those same blue eyes. Just as her informant had said, he didn’t look a day over forty. Runa stepped from behind the screen, gun level in a two handed grip. “Hello Grandfather. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She pulled the trigger. 

The body dropped, blood trickling from the wound between his eyes. Runa tucked her gun away and grabbed the strap of her duffle, throwing it over her shoulder. She edged around the body, fully expecting him to spring to life and grab her ankle like some horror movie monster. Pushing through the heavy doors and into the corridor, she ran.


	4. Dead-end goal for a dead-end girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body, the flesh of thy sons and of thy daughters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a work of fiction. It in no way reflects on my personal political views nor is it meant to be anything other than entertainment. That being said, if you are easily triggered, please stop here. This story contains sensitive topics, including, rape, incest, misogyny, Nazis, and eugenics. I have attempted to tag this story with everything that I thought was appropriate, but if i have missed any tags, please feel free to contact me and let me know. This story does not contain blatant pornographic scenes, yet I have chosen to tag it as Mature due to the content matter. Once again, I cannot stress enough that this story contains sensitive topics. If you choose to read it, please enjoy.

Runa was running full out through the maze of hallways, her thudding footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do, her grandfather was dead, but she was unsure how long she had to escape. She wasn’t certain if the gunshot had been heard or not, and she didn’t know how many people were actually here, but so far, the halls were empty. She ran around a corner, panting now with adrenaline and from the all out sprint, and recognized the exit door, just ahead. Summoning one more burst of speed, she headed for it at full steam. She was almost there, one hand on the doorknob, turning it, when a hand fisted in her hair and she was pulled backwards. 

Runa screamed at the pain in her scalp, twisting to meet her attacker and finding no one standing behind her. She gasped for breath, then turned back to the door, having only a second to take in the dapper, well dressed man standing between her and the door before his fist caught her in the chin. As her head flew back and she lost her balance, she caught one last glimpse of him before her head smashed into the concrete and darkness took her. 

***

Aksel opened his eyes and glared around the respawn room. It’s stark walls gleamed coolly under the fluorescents as he frowned and tried to remember how he’d died. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright on the table, his eyes narrowing as memories flooded back. Demo and Soldier had called for him, told him that Scout had injured himself and was waiting in the clinic. When he’d entered, instead of Scout, he’d found a girl, dressed in black leather, a gun in her hands. She had called him Grandfather. His eyes narrowed and a flash of temper washed through him, bright and hot as the sun. He threw back his head and roared, a flood of curses in German spewing from his mouth as he jumped off the table and strode toward his lab, intent on finding this girl and making her pay for shooting him. 

***

Spy tilted his head, the faint sounds of Medic’s displeasure drifting through the base. He looked at the girl tied to a chair in the lab and frowned. “I would hate to be in your shoes at the moment, girl. Medic is returning and he sounds very upset.” He leaned back against the corner of Medic’s desk, a sardonic half smile on his face. “Of course, you did kill him, so for once he has a reason to be angry.” He listened for the sound of jackbooted feet in the concrete hallway, and soon heard the rapid click click of Medic’s approach. 

He looked up as the Medic pushed through the lab doors, watching calmly as he strode into the room, hair wild and spitting curses. The girl’s eyes opened wide as Medic stormed toward her and she made a shocked noise. Spy snorted, knowing that she’d just realized that death did not apply to the men on this base.

Medic strode to the girl and backhanded her, not giving her head time to finish bouncing off the chair back before he slapped her again. Spy shook his head, allowing Medic to take out the worst of his frustrations, then sighed. “Really, Doctor, that is enough for the moment. I have questions.” 

Medic turned to Spy, eyes alight with the need to murder. “You have questions? You are not the one who ended up getting shot on his birthday by this idiot female.” He glared at the girl, her head lolling as she sat, stunned by his blows, a trickle of blood marring the perfect bow of her mouth. “How the hell did she get onto the base, much less into my lab? I thought we had security measures here.” He cursed loudly in German, unable to find the words in English to describe his ire. 

Spy continued to watch him, face expressionless. At last, when the German’s tirade seemed to be winding down again, he held up a hand. “I can answer several of your questions.” Medic watched him, wanting answers.

“Demo and Soldier thought that they were obtaining a prostitute for you.” His gaze skated over the girl, the dark leather attire and thigh high boots. “They met her in the bar in town last night and, knowing that it was your birthday, they brought her home for you.” 

Medic’s brow furrowed. “Did the idiots not search her?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How did she come to be in your care?”

Spy nodded. “They did. They confiscated her weapon, but did not think that she would have a back up.” He smiled with admiration. “Apparently the weapon she had was so poorly hidden that they thought her unskilled. They did not think that she would have more, or that she would want to assassinate someone here.” He’d spoken to Demo and Soldier himself while waiting for the after hours respawn sweep to catch Medic and revive him. “While you were dead, I did a much more thorough search. I confiscated this.” He handed a worn photo to Medic, hearing the indrawn hiss of the man’s breath. “Do you recognize this woman?” 

Medic stared down at the photo in his hands. A smiling woman posed for the camera, a dark haired infant in her arms. His face paled as recognition seeped into his bones. “Margit?” He looked up at Spy, stunned. “Where did you find this?” 

Spy noted the blood draining from Medic’s face and could not help a small frisson of excitement. Here was a puzzle indeed. He sniffed. “Tucked into her very ample decolletage. I was searching for more weapons and found, not only several knives, but a mystery from your past.” He leaned in closer, peering at the photo. “So, you do know her?”

Medic nodded, answering in a soft voice. “Her name is Margit Dahl. She was a part of the Lebensborn program.” His head snapped up, eyes focused on the girl. Suddenly, her greeting began to take on a new weight. Fisting a hand in her hair, he tilted her face back, peering closely at her features. It was all there, staring him in the face. His eyes, his hair, even his cheekbones and jawline, staring up at him defiantly. He blanched yet again. “Granddaughter.” Releasing her hair, he stepped back, catching himself on the edge of a table. “Mien Enkelin. Was für ein schönes Kind.” 

“She is my grandchild.” He clapped his hands together. “Look, Spy. Look what a lovely child I have made!” He gestured widely, taking in all of her with one wave. “This is indeed my granddaughter.” He hooked a rolling stool with one toe and pulled it in close to her. “Oh, I have so many questions! What is your name, Kind? Do you have siblings?” He giggled delightedly. “Why did you kill me?” 

Runa stared at him, unsure what to feel. She had killed him, yet here he was, asking her questions while she was tied to a chair. He sounded almost giddy with excitement, his large eyes twinkling behind his glasses. She glanced to the other man, the one he’d referred to as Spy, then back to her grandfather. He was leaning in closer now, curling a loose strand of her hair around his finger. 

“Well?” He leaned back, hands braced on his knees and stared at her. “Why did you kill me? Go on, answer. I will not be angry with you.” 

Runa frowned, trying to collect her thoughts. “My name is Runa Dahl. I killed you to avenge my grandmother’s rape and forced pregnancy at your hands.” She grimaced, tongue probing the split lip she’d gotten when he’d hit her. “You are a monster. You should have the decency to remain dead.” 

Medic threw his head back and laughed. “Oh…” he gasped. “Oh, grand daughter, you are so spirited!” He leaned forward then, mouth clamping into a thin line. “Would you like to know what happens to spirited young women, liebling?” He smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “They are punished. Surely you do not wish to be punished, do you?” He leaned forward, intent on her answer.

Runa hesitated for a moment, eyes focusing on the long fingers spread over his knees. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but the taste of her own blood in her mouth and the chafing of the restraints at her wrists suggested that truth might not be a wise choice at this point. She drew in a shuddering breath and let it out through her nose. “No.” 

“That’s a good girl.” One hand rose, the index finger catching under her chin and lifting her face to his. “A smart girl.” He glanced over at Spy. “You hear her? Isn’t she a clever girl, mien freund?” He frowned, obviously turning something over in his mind. “Who knows that she is here? The Administrator? Ms. Pauling? How many of the team know?”

Runa watched the two men, listening to the conversation. She was not certain what would happen if people knew she was on the base, but assumed it would not be good. Of course, the entire situation was not good. She spoke suddenly, allowing a slight tremor to enter her voice. “I don’t want to die. Please, Grandfather, let me go and you’ll never hear from me again.” She couldn’t cross her fingers, that would make the lie too obvious, but she wanted to, so badly. 

“Oh, do not fret, Runa. It would be a shame to allow such a wonderful melding of genetics to be destroyed.” Medic turned his attention back to Spy. “Well, who is aware of her?”

“No one outside of our team knows.” His eyebrows lifted slightly. “What do you plan to do with her? She is your grandchild, I would imagine the thought of allowing me to take her into the desert will not sit well with you.” He sighed. “Although you only have to ask, and she will disappear.” 

Medic shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t think that is necessary. After all, how much harm can one girl do?” 

“You would be surprised.” Spy muttered under his breath. He looked from one to the other. “I can see that you would like to have a reunion with your grandchild, and I do have things to do tonight. If you decide that you need me, call.” 

Medic nodded absently, his gaze on Runa’s face as the other man turned and walked softly out of the room. When the heavy doors swung closed behind him, Medic sighed. “What am i going to do with you?” Standing, he walked across the room and pulled a syringe and a glass vial from a drawer. He carefully inserted the needle into the vial and drew a clear fluid into it. “For now, you must sleep. I shall decide in the morning.” Walking behind her, he placed a firm hand on her head, holding her still. 

Although she thrashed and writhed, she could not break his grip. She shuddered as the needle touched her flesh, then sank in. When the cold stream of liquid entered her vein, Runa cried out. “No... “ She was quickly shushed, then the needle was removed and a warm hand stroked against her hair, over and over again, fingers combing through the long dark locks. 

“Go to sleep, Enkelin. Großvater will take care of you.” He began to hum a child's lullaby, causing the hairs on Runa’s neck to stand on end. She tried to fight the drug, but could hardly keep her eyes open. Soon, her head drooped and her breathing evened out as she slept soundly. 

Mien Enkelin. Was für ein schönes Kind. - My granddaughter. What a lovely child.  
Enkelin - granddaughter  
Großvater - grandfather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dead-end goal for a dead-end girl" This chapter title is from the song "Die, Die, My Darling" by The Misfits.


	5. Twisted fruit borne by the family tree.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to hold you close  
> Skin pressed against me tight  
> Lie still, and close your eyes girl  
> So lovely, it feels so right
> 
> I want to hold you close  
> Soft breasts, beating heart  
> As I whisper in your ear  
> I want to fucking tear you apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a work of fiction. It in no way reflects on my personal political views nor is it meant to be anything other than entertainment. That being said, if you are easily triggered, please stop here. This story contains sensitive topics, including, rape, incest, mysogeny, Nazis, and eugenics. I have attempted to tag this story with everything that I thought was appropriate, but if i have missed any tags, please feel free to contact me and let me know. This story does not contain blatant pornographic scenes, yet I have chosen to tag it as Mature due to the content matter. Once again, I cannot stress enough that this story contains sensitive topics. If you choose to read it, please enjoy.

Runa woke to a head that was aching and fuzzy and stuffed with cotton. She groaned and rolled over in the soft bed, pulling her blankets further over her shoulders and burrowing into the pillows. Slowly, she pried her eyes open and peered at the room around her. Alarm shot through her at the sight of blank metal walls, not the familiar ancient hotel wallpaper of her room in the small town. Her eyes popped open the rest of the way, alarm shooting through her as she remembered killing her grandfather yesterday. 

She sat up, sucking in a deep breath as dizziness caused her to sway and gag. She steadied herself, trying to focus on her surroundings. Where the hell was she? The walls, floor, and ceiling appeared to be riveted metal, there were no windows. There were two doors, both with plain knobs, no key holes. The only furniture was the bed she lay in and a small table with two chairs. She slowly straightened and swung her legs out of the bed, looking for her clothes. 

The long white cotton nightgown swished around her, lace tickled her ankles and wrists, it was not something she would wear. She vaguely wondered who had dressed her and put her here. A part of her did not want to know. Stepping gingerly, fighting the rising nausea in her stomach, she tried the doorknobs, hoping against hope that she was not a prisoner. 

The first door was locked, the second door opened to a small, utilitarian bathroom. Sink, toilet, and shower stall were all designed from the same metal as her bedroom. She peered into the small mirror, barely large enough to see her entire face, and groaned again. She looked like hell, pale with dark circles below her eyes, a thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead. A wave of nausea surged from her belly into her throat and she dropped to her knees by the toilet, vomiting thin, sour smelling bile. 

Runa lifted her head finally, a string of bile trailing from the corner of her mouth and wiped at her sweat soaked forehead. There was nothing left in her stomach, but the urge to vomit was still present. She tried to stand but wavered halfway, falling to her knees and dry heaving into the fouled toilet water. At last, feeling hollow and achy inside, she dropped her head onto the cool toilet seat and tried to breathe shallowly. Behind her, the room’s locked door opened. 

She turned, watching as her grandfather advanced into the room, a tray balanced in his hands. Sitting the tray on the table, he turned to the bathroom as the smells of food wafted through the room, causing her to lean over the toilet bowl again. 

Runa tried to struggle as cool hands rubbed her back, gathering her thick hair and holding it out of her face. She finally pushed away from the toilet, looking up at him. “Where am I?” she managed to choke out. “What is wrong with me?” 

Aksel dipped his pocket handkerchief under the tap, then wrung it out, handing the cool cloth to her. She scrubbed at her face with it, finally holding it to her forehead with a moan of thanks. “You are in a secure location, Runa.” He squatted down to speak to her, as one would do with a child. “I’m afraid that I may have given you a bit too much sedative. The sickness will pass soon.” He smiled at her, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrapped lollipop, offering it to her. “Come now, don’t glare at me like that, Runa.” He waved the lollipop in front of her face. “Go ahead, take it. It is cherry. My favorite.” His smile widened when Runa finally wrapped her fingers around the slim stick. “The sweetness will help with the taste in your mouth.” He stood easily and walked into the other room. “I assume you would like a drink of water?” 

Runa watched as he took an empty plastic cup from her tray, leaving the other cup, full of juice, balanced precariously beside a bowl. He returned to the bathroom and drew water into the glass from the tap, then handed it to her. She accepted the thin plastic cup from him, washed her mouth out, then spit into the toilet bowl. The nausea did seem to be receding. 

“Where am I?” Her voice was steadier now, she looked up at him, then slowly pushed herself off the floor to standing, swaying for a brief second before steadying herself against the sink. The dizziness was nearly gone, and the smell of food was becoming more appealing. 

Aksel reached out and took her hand. “Come, liebling, let us sit at the table. You can eat while we discuss my plans for your future.” Tugging gently, he led her back to the other room, then sat her in a chair. He fussed about for a moment, placing the tray in front of her, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap, watching her face as she stared down at the bowl of oatmeal and glass of juice. 

“I know that this room is not to your liking but there was not much to be done for it. You see, I contacted my employer and spoke to her about you. She wanted to kill you immediately.” He sat on the chair opposite her. “I’ve proposed an experiment however, one that she approved of. One that will hopefully give her access to even more soldiers to fight in this little war of hers.” 

Runa looked over at him, unsure how to process what he was telling her. “You’re going to experiment on me?” She frowned. “I don’t think I like where this is going.” Picking up the spoon, she stirred the oatmeal, wondering if it was drugged. “I want out of here.” She watched his face, his expression had hardened at her words. 

“Runa, grandchild. Do not be like that. I promise that no harm will come to you if you are obedient.” He smiled, the expression only making the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “You see, this is an opportunity like no other.” He shifted in his chair, his grin widening. “The Lebensborn program was designed to allow Germany to breed a race of genetically superior scientists and warriors. Surely your Grandmother has told you this?” 

“My grandmother told me that you forced women to give birth to children, then took them from their mothers to be indoctrinated into the Nazi weltanshauung. She said that it was the ultimate evil, that there was no choice.” She frowned at him. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

He giggled, then reached across the table and patted her hand. “Of course you don’t, liebling. Your mind is not trained in the sciences. A shame, I would be interested to see what you could achieve.” He was silent for a moment, lost in thought. “But that can be remedied now. You see, we have an opportunity before us like no other.” He smiled at her. “We can explore eugenics in a way that would not be possible for any other.” His smile broadened, white teeth showing. “There are so many opportunities before us, Runa! The possibilities are endless!” 

She set down the spoon, watching him warily. Her mind was still foggy from the drugs, she was unable to fathom what he was talking about. “You want to use my DNA to run experiments? Is that it? You gonna dissect me while you’re at it?” She pushed back from the table, a surge of anger flashing through her. “You’re gonna keep me here, like a lab rat and run tests on me! How could you even think about that? Grandma was right, you are a monster!” She began to back across the room, eyes on him, her thoughts only on killing him once again and then escaping. 

Aksel pushed back from the table, standing and holding a hand out to her, his tone conciliatory. “No, Runa, nothing like that.” He smiled, tried to look harmless. “I promise, I will not ever dissect you. You are my granddaughter, how could you think that?” He took a step toward her, his smile wider now, reminding her of a shark prepared to bite. Runa backed into a corner, frantically searching the room for something she could use as a weapon.

“Now, liebling, calm down. I promise, it will not hurt a bit. In fact, you may grow to enjoy our time together.” He darted forward suddenly, catching her wrist. His grip was tight, the fine bones in her wrist grinding against each other. Stepping toward her, he pressed her further back, trapping her between his chest and the wall. 

Runa tried to knee him in the groin but he neatly sidestepped, her knee grazing against his thigh. “Oh, you do have your grandmother’s spirit.” He crooned. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved another handkerchief and pressed it against her face, the sweet smell of chloroform filling her nostrils. 

As the fight left her, her body going limp in his grip, he leaned closer to her ear. “I had really hoped to do this with your willing participation, Runa.” A soft sigh then, warm lips pressing against her temple. “Oh well, that will come with time.” 

***

Runa opened her eyes to find herself back on the bed. She tried to sit up, but could not move her arms or legs. Raising her head, she looked down over her body, eyes going to the leather restraints holding her arms in place. She began to struggle then, flailing about on the bed, fear rising in her throat. She screamed, in her panic begging for help, even as the still rational part of her brain whispered that there was no one to hear. 

At last, growing exhausted, she lay still, her breath coming in rasping pants. She raised her head again as the toilet flushed in the small bathroom. 

Aksel stepped out, closing the door behind him. “Ah, my sleeping beauty is awake.” He grinned broadly, then pulled his lab coat off, draping it over the chair. “That is a good thing. I had feared that we would run out of time.” He stepped closer to the bed, his fingers toying with his buttons, undoing them as he stood there, staring down at her, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “You will learn, spoiled grandchild, that I always get what I want. It’s much less annoying if you simply cooperate.” He pulled his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, his hands going to his belt buckle.

“What are you doing?” Runa struggled against her bonds again, unable to free herself, unable to take her eyes from him. 

Aksel tilted his head to the side, studying her for a long moment, his hands still. At last he shook his head, then began to unbutton his pants. “Großvater is undressing, liebling.” Stepping out of his pants, he ran a warm hand up her leg, letting it rest on her thigh, kneading her flesh gently. “Your skin is so soft, just like your grandmother’s.” 

He climbed onto the bed, positioning his body over hers. “You should be so excited! We have the opportunity to double my genetic input. Our children will be strong and beautiful as Damascus steel, the foundation material folding in on itself over and over again. And, look at it this way, any girl child you bear will simply be another fold in the steel! The opportunities are endless! Through you, my genetic material will be refined endlessly.” Leaning his head down, he kissed her on the forehead. “Meine schöne Enkelin. Shall we begin?” 

Großvater - grandfather  
meine schöne Enkelin - My lovely granddaughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics are from the song "Tear You Apart" by SheWantsRevenge. I hope you have enjoyed the final chapter of this little drama.


End file.
